But Darrell averted his head. , and munched a roll and butter with hearty appetite. Her unnatural calm was giving way. Then he went on: “—and, indeed, to most of the established things in life is, frankly, unsatisfactory. . "How goes it?" he began, heartily. There were two of them. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance.
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